


Uncle Joey

by JoeyPare



Series: Uncle Joey [1]
Category: Houston Knights
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeyPare/pseuds/JoeyPare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first story in the Uncle Joey Series. It has six chapters and incorporates several of the individual "Uncle Joey" short stories = Hide & Seek and Mikey's Discoveries (which is now a finished story).<br/>Levon meets Joey's nephew Mikey III.</p><p>Joey's Note:<br/>The inspiration for 'Mikey' came from a cute little four-year-old girl I enjoyed a weekly lunch with when we lived in Illinois. The first UNCLE JOEY story was in Catherine Schlein's "Partner N Friends" letterzine that she published during the time the series was on and for a few years after. This story series is ongoing. Who knows what other mischief Mikey can bring into the Knights lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

UNCLE JOEY  
By  
JoeyPare & Hilligan  
A Round Robin Story

…….by JoeyPare

 

"'Bout time you opened this door, LaFiamma!" Lundy bellowed impatiently, pushing the door open as the handle turned in front of him. "What took you so long, anyway?" The blond detective asked curtly as he boldly strolled into his partner's apartment, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a toddler with the same raggedy hair that his partner had.

 

"One of yours?" Lundy quipped, looking intently at the lad who was bouncing at his feet.

 

"Hi, I'm Mikey! I'm four years old. Are you a friend of Uncle Joey's? Is he a friend of yours Uncle Joey?" Mikey LaFiamma bubbled joyfully, looking up into the stern face of his Uncle's partner.

 

"Uncle Joey!?" Levon Lundy questioned with surprise, a grin spreading across his face.

 

"Yeah," LaFiamma answered sheepishly, waiting for the negative response he knew would be coming from the Texan. Mikey's arrival spoiled the plans the two detectives had for their day off.

 

"What'd you say your name was son?" Lundy asked grinning, dropping to one knee to be eye-to-eye with this dynamo from Chicago.

 

"I'm Michael Anthony LaFiamma - the third!" Mikey boasted, doing a little dance as he repeated his name. "Are you Uncle Levon? We're waiting for bull-headed Uncle Levon. You're not bull-headed, are you?" Mikey asked shaking his head from side to side. "Uncle Levon's going with us to see some spaceships. I saw some spaceships on telebision, but Uncle Joey said I'll be able to touch a real one. Are you Uncle Levon? Are you?"

 

"LaFiamma, you can't be serious about bringing this kid along on our outing?!" Lundy replied, eyeing his partner suspiciously.

 

"Hey, Lundy. They knocked on my door about thirty minutes ago... what could I say... they're family." Joey lamented, knowing the two had looked forward to this day for over a month.

 

"You could'a said no!!" Levon growled firmly, taking off his Stetson, running his fingers through his mass of curly blond hair.

 

"NO! Uncle Joey never says no to me, do you Uncle Joey? 'Cause Uncle Joey likes me, don't you, Uncle Joey?" Mikey babbled, skipping from Levon to Joey and back again.

 

Joe bent down, swooped Mikey up into his arms, and deposited the boy on the living room couch. "Just sit there a minute, Mikey, while Uncle Lee-von and I have a talk."

 

"O..-kay, but we can't wait too long or the spaceships might take off, and then I wouldn't be able to touch them, would I?" Mikey answered, brushing his hair out of his eyes before folding his hands on his lap.

 

"Look, Levon - I know this is last minute. But I couldn't say no to my cousin, okay. He's a good kid, he won't be a problem," Joe earnestly pleaded, glancing quickly towards the couch to make sure the boy was still there.

 

"LaFiamma, he's already talked my arm off, and I ain't even been here five minutes!" Levon groused, wondering if insanity ran in Joe's family, to agree to baby-sit on the first real day off they'd had in months.

 

Lundy's words brought Mikey off the couch in a single bound. His two small fists shoving into the Texan's thigh. "I didn't neither talk your arm off, it's still here," he said angrily grabbing Levon's arm, giving it a jerk. "See it's there!"

 

Continuing with barely a breath between words, Mikey said, "Look! Uncle Joey, Uncle Levon has cowboy boots on. Do you have a horse, Uncle Levon? Horses live in barns. Do you have a barn? Can I ride your horse? Can I?"

 

"Yeah, Uncle Levon," Joey chuckled with a broad grin on his face, "maybe we should just go see your horse and milk your cow?"

 

"A COW!! Do you have a cow? A real live cow?" Mikey's eyes grew wide as saucers. "My friend, Rico, thinks milk comes from a carton in the store. But I saw on Sesame where milk comes from, and how it's made ... and it starts with a cow!"

 

"La-Fi-a-mma!" Levon muttered through a tightly clenched jaw. This imaginary cow the two detectives had made up for one of their suspensions was getting out of hand.

 

"Why'd he call you LaFiamma, Uncle Joey? Doesn't he know your name is Joe?"

 

"You sure this kid is related to you, LaF.., Joe. He's said more in the last ten minutes than you've said in two years." Then glancing at the dancing four year old in blue shorts, sneakers, and a white tee shirt that said Chicago Bears on it, Levon replied softly, "I don't have a cow, Mikey, your Uncle Joey was just kidding."

 

"Well...?" Joey asked, stretching the word, knowing there was no need to finish the question.

 

"Yeah," Levon said nodding, "maybe a horse would be safer than turning this kid loose in the Johnson Space Center."

 

++++

 

"Wow! Uncle Joey - look at the horse! Isn't he beau-ti--ful?" Mikey exclaimed, bouncing up and down, but not letting go of Joe's hand. "Do I need cowboy boots to ride him Uncle Levon? He won't mind if I just have on sneakers, will he?"

 

As they approached the corral where Lundy's horse, Fooler was kept, Levon turned suddenly, grabbed Mikey by the shoulders and thrust him up onto the top rail of the corral fence. Mikey's face showed total fear until a grin and a nod of a head from Uncle Joey washed it all away.

 

"If you sit real still," Levon said quietly, "he'll come over to meet you. Then we can saddle him and take you for a ride."

 

"Uncle Joey, did we bring a camera? Rico's never going to believe that I sat on a real horse unless I got a picure to show him."

 

LaFiamma leaned against the fence and watched his partner saddle Fooler, then lift Mikey into the saddle. A tear glistened in the Italian's eye as he realized, if things had turned out differently with Levon and Caroline, he could be watching Levon and his son working this horse.

 

"Uncle Joey! Hi, Uncle Joey.. it's me... look! I'm on a horse. I looove you - Uncle Joey," Mikey gushed grinning from ear to ear as Lundy led Ol' Fooler around the corral.

 

Several minutes went by before Lundy stopped the horse, and lifted Mikey to the ground. His little legs were flying before he landed, and he was off to the barn in a dead run. "Come on, Uncle Joey! Uncle Levon said we can play hide-and-seek in the barn."

 

Joe's mouth dropped opened and he stared in disbelief at his partner. "Hide-and seek? What, you nuts, Lundy!?"

 

"Well, I figured if we couldn't find him, he might fall asleep for a while," Lundy replied grinning.

 

"Wishful thinking, Lundy, wishful thinking. We're the ones who are going to fall asleep first. This kid's had ants in his pants since he was born. He didn't start walking at eight months... he started running!"

 

"You okay, Joe?" Lundy asked, using his partner's first name was rare for the Texan. "You looked kind of melancholy when Mikey was on Fooler."

 

"Yeah, I..." Joe started to say. ...but this little voice from inside the barn called, "bet you can't FIND me."

 

"Maybe we should have gone to the Space Center after all, Uncle Levon, Joey said laughingly as the two jogged to the barn.

 

"Sure thing - Uncle Joey. I can see Mikey now - swinging from the nose cone yelling, 'Hey, Uncle Joey, I'm up here.'"

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

by Hilligan

 

Joe and Levon stopped just inside the entrance to the barn, their smiles fading as they peered into the dim interior.

 

"Oh great," Joe said, "where is he?"

 

"It's hide 'n seek, remember?" Levon snickered.

 

Joe gave him a mock frown then turned and called out, "Mikey! Mikey! Where you at?"

 

They stood there in the silence, waiting.

 

"Now he shuts up," Levon muttered. "Joe, you search low, I'll go high."

 

Joe raised an eyebrow. "High?"

 

"Up in the haymow," Levon pointed upward as he strode toward the tall, rough wooden ladder leaning against a beam high above their heads.

 

=+=+=+=+=+

 

Mikey couldn't stop giggling as he searched for a place to hide. Nothing seemed to suit him until he saw the ladder. He ran to it quickly, struggling to climb the wide rough planks. He grinned smugly as he managed to climb the first few rungs. 

 

"Bet you can't find me!" he called out.

 

This would be perfect! They would never think to search up high for him. How many times had he climbed the tree in their yard at home, quietly hiding as his mother called and called for him below. He always won at hide-and-seek. He would win this time too. 

 

He hurried to the left, across the hay-strewn floor toward a huge doorway. Rays of dusty sunlight streamed through the opening, spotlighting the timbers of the floor. As he stepped into the friendly warmth he could see trees, and the sky, and even a bird! 

 

He looked down at his feet and recoiled in panic as the earth, far below, seemed to tug at him. He lost his balance. His legs were suddenly weak and he fell to the floor. He panted in fear as he crawled away from the glorious portal, back into the solid safety of the dim loft.

 

As his breathing eased he heard Uncle Joey and Uncle Levon talking below which brought back the urgency to hide. Forgetting his fear he scurried across the loft, making for a stack of squares made of hay. He pulled at a hay square, trying to make enough room to hide behind it, but it wouldn't budge. Looking desperately around for another place to hide, he saw a square hole in the floor just to his right. He carefully approached it, dropping to his knees to crawl to the edge and look down. 

 

The room below was darker than the loft, and he spotted another hay square in a corner of the room that was perfect for hiding behind.

 

He looked around and spotted something that was attached to the wall. It had some hay in it, and he thought that maybe he could use it to step on and jump down to the floor. He began to lower himself through the hole in the loft floor. His weight quickly pulled him down and he gripped the floor tightly as he flailed out with his legs, searching for the hay-thing on the wall. He couldn't reach it, it was too far away. He could feel his fingers begin to burn with the strain of holding onto the floor above. As he felt his grip weaken fear hit him again, making him shake. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. He heard his Uncle Joey calling for him. He gritted his teeth and tried to call for help, but all that came out was a moan of fear.

 

=+=+=+=+=+

 

Levon stepped off the ladder and ran to the loft doors. Looking down at the ground, he let out a relieved whoosh of breath as his worst fear didn't materialize. He turned quickly and hurried toward the hay bales stacked against the wall, about halfway down the loft. He noticed the open trap-door of the hay chute to Fooler's stall about the same time he heard a low moan. He saw a pair of small hands, the fingers clawing and white, hanging on to the edge of the opening. He threw himself at the chute, thrust his arm through the opening and roughly grabbed Mikey's arm. The boy shrieked in terror as he felt his grip torn loose. Levon tried and tried to get Mikey's attention, to let him know he was safe, but the little boy was too terrified to hear him.

 

Joe moved quickly through the wide aisle, checking each dark stall, calling Mikey's name. He heard a moan and turned toward a stall across the aisle. As he walked through the open door he saw Mikey hanging from a hole in the ceiling. As he rushed to catch the boy, Mikey began to scream and seemed to fall. Joe cried out helplessly as he realized he wouldn't get there in time.

 

To his amazement, he did get there in time. He reached up and wrapped his hands around the tiny waist and - looked up into his partner's frightened eyes.

 

Levon released his hold and Joe drew the sobbing child to his chest, gently rocking him, rubbing his back and whispering softly, trying to calm him down.

 

Levon lowered himself through the trap-door and dropped the last few feet to the floor. Joe glanced at him and Levon quickly looked away, but not before Joe caught the flash of guilt in his eyes. Joe reached out and gripped Levon's shoulder. When he had his attention he simply said, "Thank you."

 

"It's all my fault. Should'a never told him..."

 

Joe shook his head. "No Lundy. We're both at fault. We didn't take our babysitting duties seriously."

 

"Well, it ain't like we gotta whole lot of experience at this," Levon sighed. 

 

Mikey was down to sniffles by now and rubbing his eyes. Levon reached out and placed his hand on Mikey's warm head.

 

"Hmmm - don't feel no lumps. Looks like your head's okay," Levon muttered thoughtfully. 

 

Joe gave Mikey's head a quick kiss.

 

"How 'bout yer hands? Any splinters?" Levon squinted at Mikey's hands, making a show of inspecting them.

 

Mikey held out both hands and rotated them, looking for splinters. He shook his head and looked at Levon.

 

Levon narrowed his eyes. "How's them ribs?" Levon reached out and gently tickled Mikey's ribs, causing him to squirm and giggle.

 

"Oh no," Joe said in mock concern, "his ribs are ticklish! What'll we do?" he finished dramatically.

 

"Only one cure for ticklish ribs, LaFiamma," Levon said with authority, "chocolate milk."

 

"You really think it's that bad?" Joe said, keeping up the act.

 

Levon paused, looked at Mikey thoughtfully, then suddenly reached out and tickled him again. This time Mikey's shrieks were of laughter.

 

"Lord a mighty, LaFiamma! Git him to the house quick!" Levon laughed. "It might take two glasses of it to cure him!"

 

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story in the Uncle Joey Series. --- 7 Chapters

-=-=-=-=-= Chapter 2

By Joey Pare

"Uncle Levon you are so funny!" Mikey chuckled, "And you make the bestest chocolate milk ever."

"What about lunch?" Joey asked looking into his partner refrigerator to see what was there. "How about toasted cheese sandwiches?"

"With bacon?" Mikey shouted.

"Ah no bacon, Mikey. Levon doesn't keep much in his frig."

"Just plain is okay." Mikey decided.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

By Hilligan

"Got some soup to go with it if ya like," Levon said.

"What kinda soup you want Mikey?" Joe asked as he peered into the cupboard over Levon's shoulder. "He's got chicken, tomato..."

"'Mato! I like 'mato soup Uncle Joey!"

"You like mater soup, huh?" Levon grinned.

"That's pronounced toe-may-toe, Mikey." Joe said, overriding Levon.

Mikey made a face. "Eww, I don't like toes. I want chicken!"

"With or without feathers?" asked Levon.

"Lundy..." Joe glared a warning at Levon.

"Oh alright, without feathers it is," Levon said in an aggrieved tone. He winked at Mikey, making the boy giggle furiously. Joe couldn't help but smile.

"Here ya go LaFiamma, you make the soup and I'll get the toasted cheese started." He tried to hand Joe the can of soup.

"Forget it Lundy. You heat up the soup and I'll take care of the sandwiches. If you make them there's no telling what we'll end up eating," Joe said wryly.

Levon smiled amicably as he searched for a pot to put the soup in. Joe placed the frying pan on the burner leaving it to heat up as he moved around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients he needed for the toasted cheese.

"Uncle Joey I have to use the bathroom," announced Mikey.

"Okay, c'mon," Joe said. He looked at Levon. "Be right back."

Levon had opened the soup and poured it into the pot when Joe returned.

"He be all right in there by himself?" asked Levon.

"Yeah, I was informed that he's, 'not a baby, I know how to go.'" Joe smiled. He dropped some pats of butter into the hot pan. "It's pretty amazing how resilient kids can be, huh?" he commented. "One minute he was scared to death, crying his eyes out, and the next minute you had him laughing like it never happened."

"Well, one thing I learned from Mother Minnie, if a kid sees you get upset, he's gonna get upset," Levon drawled. "If ya play it off like it ain't so serious he'll stay calm and if you can keep 'em distracted, you'll be able to patch him up without all the fussin'."

"I think you'd make a great father, Lundy," Joe said carefully. "I'd trust you with Mikey any day." There was a small awkward silence. "Mother Minnie did a good job with you."

Levon looked up from stirring the soup. There was a slight blush across his cheeks and warm gratitude in his eyes. "She sure had her hands full, bless her heart, but she can be pretty tough when she has to be."

Mikey came running back into the kitchen. "Is it ready?" he asked.

"Almost," Joe said. "C'mere."

Mikey walked up to Joe and held his arms up as Joe reached down to lift him up.

"Let's wash our hands, eh?" Joe swung Mikey up onto his hip, turned the water on and grabbed the dish soap. "Hold out your hands," instructed Joe.

Levon watched Joe help the boy wash his hands. He contemplated LaFiamma's gentle way with Mikey, which sharply contrasted the man he'd seen slam a resisting suspect into an alley wall just two days before. It brought to mind an old saying, 'Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as true strength.'

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  
By JoeyPare

"Uncle Joey, is it ok that I call him Uncle Levon?" Mikey asked as he devoured his toasted cheese sandwich.

Joe watched his partner nod to him before saying, "Sure Mikey, I think Levon would like that."

"Uncle Levon, can I play in the attic after lunch."

"The attic, Mikey. This is just a one story house, there is no attic."

"But I noticed when I was on the horse that you gots a window way up high. So you gots to have a attic to go with it."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  
By Hilligan

Lundy took a thoughtful bite of his sandwich. "Ya know, I remember seein' that window when we first moved in here but I never got around to checkin' it out. Makes me wonder if there's an attic up there."

"You ever see a door or a staircase that didn't make sense?" Joe asked. "Eat your soup Mikey," he added.

"Not that I recollect, no."

"Oh boy! It's a misty!" Mikey jumped up onto his chair seat. "You guys are good at solving mistys, huh? It's your job!"

"That's mystery, Mikey," Joe instructed. "and yes, we're pretty good at solving mysteries. Sit down and eat your soup."

"Do you think there's a ghost up there?" Mikey whispered as he slid down to the seat, his eyes wide and serious.

"No Mikey," Levon smiled. "the only thing we'll likely find is a whole lotta dust."

"If there aren't any extra doors around here, our best bet is the ceiling," Joe said. "We're gonna have to search the house."

"Let's go, let's go," Mikey yelled excitedly, "let's find the secret door!

"Ah, ah, ah. No secret doors until you eat your soup," Joe said. He picked up his spoon to set a good example and caught Levon trying very hard not to smile. Joe narrowed his eyes and growled, "Eat - your - soup."

+=+=+=+=+=+

Half an hour later, after repeated searches of the house and several trips outside to view the window over the front porch, they stood in the living room trying to solve the puzzle.

"I don't get it," Joe said irritably. "there's a room up there so there's gotta be a way in." He gestured toward the ceiling in exasperation.

"Maybe the previous owners put the ceilin' up over it -- blocked it off," Levon mused as he searched the ceiling for clues.

"You can't see it 'cause it's a secret Uncle Joey," Mikey sighed wearily.

Levon raised an eyebrow at Joe. "The kid may be on ta' somethin'."

"Oh, come on Lundy. Secret doors? Hidden passageways? Next you'll be showing us the moat," Joe laughed.

"Well, if you gotta better idea I'd like to hear it, Sure Complains-a-lot!" Levon challenged.

"It just so happens I do, King Arthur. I think Sir Robin of Nodding Head is ready for a nap." Joe glanced over at the couch where Mikey was slowly listing sideways toward the cushions. 

Grinning widely, they arranged the afghan over Mikey and strategically placed a pillow near his head as Joe eased the sleepy little boy down onto the couch.

"Out like a light," Joe whispered.  
Levon placed a warning finger over his lips and they both tip-toed out of the livingroom into the hallway.

"Well, we can't watch T.V. with Mikey in there so what'cha wanna do now?" Joe asked in a hushed voice.

"Find a way inta' the attic," Levon said distractedly as he looked up at the hallway ceiling.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Lundy, the only way we're getting into the attic is if we climb up on the porch roof and break the window -- or not," he amended as Levon shot him a narrow look.

Levon returned his gaze to the ceiling. "Take a look up there," he said, lifting his chin up briefly. "See that thin moldin'? What's it doin' mounted in the middle a the ceilin' like that?"

"Hmm, looks framed out about four feet wide and about six feet long. That's about right for a trap door, but there's a light fixture right in the middle of it Lundy. It can't be..." he trailed off thoughtfully then looked at Levon.

"I'll get a ladder," said Levon.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

"What'cha got?"

"Nothin' yet," Levon grunted.

"Try pulling down on it," Joe advised.

Levon froze then slowly looked down at Joe with a deadpan look.

Joe sighed impatiently. "Let me up..."

"Will ya just hold the ladder still, LaFiamma?" Levon interrupted testily. He went back to work on the molding, prying at it with his fingertips at various positions along its length with no success.

"Shoot! It won't budge."

"Let's try the other end."

Levon stepped down and slid the ladder down the hallway, positioning it under the molding. Stepping up near the top of the ladder he began prying at the molding, trying to separate it from the ceiling when it suddenly came loose. The ceiling dropped down heavily, banging down on top of the ladder and knocking Levon off to land on top of Joe. 

Joe instinctively wrapped his arms around Levon as they staggered backward and slammed into the wall. They both watched as the staircase lowered itself slowly, its weight pushing the clattering ladder back down the hallway. They stood in the quiet for several seconds looking at the dark staircase until Levon turned his head to look at Joe.

"Are ya gonna let me go or are ya expectin' a ghost ta come down them stairs?"

Joe snorted, released Levon and pushed himself away from the wall.

"Age before beauty," Joe graciously gestured to the staircase.

"Damn right."

Levon began ascending the stairs slowly, cautiously testing the soundness of the structure. Joe grimaced with every creak and groan the worn wood made under Levon's weight, fully expecting the whole thing to come crashing down. Joe heard Lundy's muffled voice above him.

"C'mon up, it's safe."


	3. Chapter 3

>>>>>>Chapter 3

by JoeyPare

 

"You want me to come up there with years of cobwebs and dust? Be serious Lundy. Besides that would leave Mikey down here alone." Joey said peering up into the darkness.

"Maybe I should toss you up a flashlight. Probably no light ..." Joey started before light flooded down the ladder.

"You were saying about no light. Come on LaFiamma! There is a bunch of furniture stacked against one wall. A couple of trunks. A stack of old newspapers from the 1800's. You're the antique lover. Get up here."

"Whoa, Uncle Joey, you found it. Is there bones up there?" Mikey asked rubbing sleepers from his eyes.

"Bones?" Joe choked. How could he answer a question like that when he didn't know.

"Well, it's been hidden for a long time. Maybe someone was trapped up there when all the peoples left." Mikey said peering up the stairs.

"You comin' up LaFiamma?" Levon shouted.

"Come on Uncle Joey." Mikey said as he spider-walked up the stairs.

Reluctantly Joseph LaFiamma followed behind.

Stepping into the attic, Joe looked around. It wasn't quite as dusty as he thought it should be and there looked to be some interesting things up here.

"Don't touch anything Mikey," Joe said watching the child head for an old rocking horse.

Suddenly the two detectives heard, "Lemme out a'here! Uncle Joey, Uncle Joey, where'd you go?"

"Mikey?" Joey called.

"Mikey where are you?" Levon said walking over to the rocking horse.

All of a sudden they heard, "WHOOOOPIE!" Then little feet came up the ladder again.

"Whoa was that fun, can I do it again?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

by Hilligan

 

"What the... Mikey! C'mere!" Joe squatted down and quickly scooped Mikey up into his arms as the child darted past.

"I wanna go again Uncle Joey! It was fun!" Mikey laughed.

"What'cha got all over your face kiddo?" Joe studied Mikey in the dim light.

Reaching out, Levon swiped his thumb across Mikey's face and rubbed his fingers across the residue there. He looked at Joe. 

"Soot."

They both turned their attention to the stone chimney in the attic wall. Levon walked slowly toward the chimney, peering at the stone, trying to see a doorway. The toe of his boot struck against something. 

An old rocking horse. 

He leaned down to move the sturdy toy and paused as he saw the dusty cracked finish. He ran his fingers along the telltale strokes of chisel and plane. Perused the places where the paint had been worn away by little legs astride a trusty steed, and the grip of sure hands as they guided their partner in the pursuit of justice, or outfoxing a posse on the outlaw trail. He gazed into dull black eyes and fancied the old horse was lost in memories of adventures shared with a partner long lost. A soft voice jolted Levon from his melancholy.

"Lundy? What's wrong?" Joe called.

"Nothin'," he said shortly as he shifted the rocking horse aside. "just lookin' at the horse."

He straightened quickly as Joe approached and stepped closer to the chimney stones.

"It's right there Uncle Levon! A secret! Right there!" Mikey urged as Levon searched the wall. All he could see were shadows. He gave a sudden gasp as he realized what he was looking at.

"Well, I'll be," he whispered and turned to Joe. "there's a passage."

Levon turned back to the stone. He placed his hand on the wall where it seemed to meet the chimney and curled his fingers around the edge of the wood.

"See LaFiamma? It's a plank, mounted against the stone. The bulk of the chimney shields this corner from the light of the window." he nodded toward the blurry light of the mysterious window. "The wall's been stained a dark brown, same as this plank. In the dark, it looks like the wall meets the stone here, but it's just a lone plank. The wall is actually back a few inches. Just enough to slide through..." 

Levon put his back to the wall and slowly disappeared as he eased sideways into the narrow passage.

"Be careful Lundy," Joe warned.

"Don't worry LaFiamma, I ain't goin' much further."

Joe couldn't see Levon in the narrow opening but could hear his movements. He suddenly reappeared from the pitch-black.

"It goes to the flue, ya gotta work yer way down to the fireplace. There's also a shelf that looks big enough ta hold a couple a people if they laid down. Tight fit," Levon grinned, "but no problem for a little guy like Mikey."

"Why all these hidden doors and passages Lundy?"

Levon shrugged. "Yer guess is as good as mine. Maybe they were hidin' from Indians or robbers, or the place could'a been used by outlaws to hide loot in."

"Did you find a loot in there Uncle Levon?" Mikey asked excitedly. "What does a loot look like?"

"No Mikey, it was too dark ta see real good," Levon laughed. "we'll come back with a light later on."

"Let's look around some more." Joe lowered Mikey to the floor. "Maybe we can find out who all this stuff belongs to."

"Oh boy! I'm gonna ride the horsie!" exclaimed Mikey as he made a dash for the rocking horse.

"Mikey." Joe's voice was deep and stern, causing the boy to stop abruptly and look at Joe.

"You stay with me and don't touch anything without asking first. This stuff doesn't belong to you," lectured Joe, "it's not right to touch someone else's things."

"Hey LaFiamma," ventured Levon, "I don't think it'll hurt anythin' if he rides that old horse, long as he's careful."

Joe knelt down in front of the little boy. "Be careful, it's a long way to the floor, okay?"

"Okay Uncle Joey," Mikey said solemnly, his dark eyes big and soulful.

Joe couldn't resist. He reached out and took Mikey's face in his hands and gave him a great big noisy kiss on his forehead. Giggling, Mikey returned the gesture to Joe's cheek. Joe supervised his nephew's scramble to mount the large rocking horse then turned to join Levon at a stack of old dusty newspapers.

Levon was gingerly picking up yellowed newspapers, looking at the various headlines and stories. Joe's gaze turned to a nearby trunk. He knelt down in front of it and tried to lift the lid but it wouldn't open.

"Here LaFiamma, use this." Levon withdrew a pocket knife from his jeans and offered it to Joe. "Use the end of the bottle opener, it works real good on old locks like that."

As Joe focused on picking the lock Levon studied the newspapers, totally engrossed in another time. Both men barely registered the rhythmic creak and thud of the old rocking horse as it tried to keep up with Mikey's very active imagination.

Levon's brow furrowed as he compared several of the old papers. He gently grabbed a paper from the top of another stack and blew the dust from its surface.

"Hey! Watch where you're blowing that stuff, will ya?" Joe groused, swiping at his hair and sleeves.

"Fer cryin' out loud, LaFiamma, the dust'll wash off, I promise," Levon said derisively. "Look at this..."

"That doesn't mean I want to breathe it Lundy. Geez, don't you..."

"Will you just be quiet for two seconds and look..."

A loud thud and a wail cut short their argument. They both ran to the little boy and helped him to his feet.

"Mikey, are you all right?" Joe asked worriedly.

"He jumped up and made me fall off Uncle Joey," Mikey whimpered.

"Joe, look at this."

Levon placed his hand on the worn saddle then slid his fingers over the cantle and pulled upward. The saddle came free and Levon lifted it clear of the horse, revealing a hidden compartment.

They both peered into the hollowed out rocking horse.

"I'm beginning to think this house is full of secrets Lundy," Joe said quietly.

"What's inside Uncle Levon?" Mikey asked, "Candy?"

"No candy. Looks to be a couple a envelopes." Levon reached inside the compartment.

The envelopes were yellow with age. Levon opened the first one carefully and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.

"What's it say?" Joe asked.

"It's dated December, nineteen thirty-two. 'Mr. Milligan,' ... looks personal," Levon commented. "don't think we should read it 'less we gotta."

"What about the other one?"

Joe waited patiently as Levon removed two yellowed, official looking parchments from the other envelope. As he opened the papers, a necklace clinked to the wooden floor. Joe gathered up the necklace and dangled the chain from his fingers, peering at the tarnished worn locket in the dim light. He glanced up to catch Levon's sharp gaze.

Levon could see the question in Joe's eyes as he handed over the papers for Joe to see. As Joe perused the flowing writing he realized he was looking at two certificates. One was a birth certificate, the other for death. He frowned as he compared both documents. 

"What's it say, Uncle Joey?" whispered Mikey.

"Emilene Arceneaux Milligan - this one is Aubrey Milligan." He looked again to Levon. "He was born the same day as..." he trailed off, being deliberately vague for Mikey's sake.

Levon looked down at the letter he held. "This is signed by Flora Miltner."

"The envelope is addressed to Everett Milligan," It was Joe's turn to give Levon a weighted look of his own. "Eastham Prison, Farm Number 2 in Huntsville, Texas."

"That was a bad place," Levon said grimly.

"Think we still have time to go down to the courthouse?"

"You sure ya want ta do that?" Levon teased, "Those old records get mighty dusty." 

"You're a laugh a minute Lundy."

"Ain't gotta go to the courthouse," Levon grinned, "Mrs. Bowden lives down the road, been around here all her life. Knows more about this area than any courthouse."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Joe swooped down and gathered Mikey in his arms. "Ready to go solve a misty, kiddo?"

"Oh boy!" Mikey hollered, "Let's go!"


	4. Chapter 4

=+=+=+=+= Chapter 4

 

"Moo-cows!" Mikey gave a high pitched squeal that made both men wince. "Can I ride a moo-cow, Uncle Joey? Can I?" Mikey flung himself across Joe's lap as he tried to get a better view out the open window.

"No way squirt, you can't ride a cow," Joe teased as he wrapped an arm around the squirming child, "you can talk to them though."

"I can? Oh boy, hellooo, hellooo moo-cows!" Mikey shouted at the top of his lungs.

"How 'bout hangin' him a little further out the wind'a, LaFiamma," Levon grumbled.

Joe laughed at Levon's pained countenance. "Now you know how I feel when you turn on the radio."

Levon smirked and brought the Jimmy to a halt near the front of an iron gray, well maintained farmhouse. There was a glimpse of bright sheets hanging in the sunny yard around back. An immense, ancient tree stretched toward the blue sky and cast a wide, protective shadow across the house, shielding the front porch from the bright sunlight and heat of the day. A tidy garden was tended by the warm sun at the other side of the house with a makeshift scarecrow standing watch, and tin pie plates flashed in the sun from its outstretched arms.

"Afternoon Mrs. Hunter," Levon called to a dim figure behind the screen door as he removed his Stetson. The door creaked open as they walked up the stone walk to the front steps. "beautiful day," he commented.

"Hello Levon, yes it is," smiled the older woman, "I'll get Ma, have a seat."

Both men stood as the screen door creaked again. An elderly woman with a heavy, gnarled, wooden cane held open the door as a young girl balanced a tray of glasses and a pitcher of tea.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Bowden," Levon said, Joe echoed his partner.

"Good afternoon," she answered in a soft, southern-sweet lilt. She wore a simple, cotton summer-dress, and her silver hair was gathered in a tight bun bound with a colorful pin. 

"I hope you'll have some tea with me." She eased herself into a chair. "I like to flavor it with the peaches we grow out back, it tastes wonderful."

As they settled down with their tea, Levon introduced her to Joe and Mikey.

"It's nice to meet you. Do you like your tea, Mikey?"

"It's good; can you talk to cows?" he asked abruptly.

"Why, yes I can," she laughed, "though they never have much to say."

She tilted her head inquiringly at Levon. "Therese tells me ya'll have some questions about a house you're livin' in?"

"Yes'm, I've lived there a few years. I work for the Houston Police Department, Joe's my partner." He removed the aged papers from the envelope and handed them over to the elderly lady. "We found attic space above the house and came across these papers. Was hopin' ta find out who owns all the stuff we found."

She reached into her dress pocket and removed a pair of thin, wire-rimmed glasses which she placed precisely on her nose, then carefully unfolded the yellowed papers and quietly perused them. "Oh my," she exclaimed softly. She continued to read a moment more then removed her glasses and looked out across the sunny yard.

"Flora Miltner was my sister," she began, "she lived in your house. Our ma was good with natural medicine, she passed her knowledge on to Flora and me, but Flora was the one who kept the tradition. Folks would come to her for first aid, birthin', and such."

She paused and regarded Mikey thoughtfully.

"Mikey, would you like to go and talk to the cows with Lindy?" she gestured to the young girl sitting nearby. "She can tell you all of their names and maybe you can give them some carrots." She looked at Lindy, and the young girl took her cue.

"Come on Mikey, the girls love carrots."

"Can I talk to the cows, Uncle Joey?" he asked excitedly.

Joe nodded. "You behave and do what Lindy tells you to do."

"Are they all girls?" Mikey asked as Lindy led him down the front steps. "How come there's no boys? Do they like to eat spinach? They can have mine, I don't like spinach...," his voice faded as they turned the corner of the house.

Levon and Joe looked at Mrs. Bowden expectantly.

"Little pitchers have big ears," she said in way of an explanation.

She took a steadying breath and looked at the letter she held in her hand.

"Everett Milligan came from Louisiana, Emilene was his wife. She was to have a child; jobs were hard to come by, and they had little money. He had a friend, name of Ray Hamilton, who ran with a nasty bunch of people. I don't believe Everett knew how bad they really were until it was too late."

She looked out again into the sunny yard but saw only the past.

"It was in all the papers, those people shot and killed two policemen up in Oklahoma. Everett was arrested and sentenced to thirty years just for bein' there; the others got their due much later." Her eyes narrowed. "Everett was paroled just over twenty-five years into his sentence." She looked over at them. 

"Desperate men sometimes do bad things. I don't agree with what he did but I understand it. He was in prison when she had the baby. Flora used to tell the story every so often," she shivered, "gave me chills."

"The birth was hard, the poor girl was in labor for hours. She finally had the child, but began to bleed as she passed the after-birth. Flora gradually realized that Emilene needed more help than she knew how to give. Back then, not everyone had a telephone or a car. She was forced to go for help, cradlin' the baby in her arms, leavin' Emilene there alone as she hurried down the road to the closest house. By the time they got the doctor to her there wasn't much he could do. She died before they made it to the hospital."

"Everett had no family and from what Emilene told Flora, she and Everett married against her family's wishes -- ran away. He must have loved Emilene dearly to defy her father because when Emilene's family came for the baby, in answer to Flora's letter, Flora said it was like they were made of stone. Emilene's father, uncle, and three brothers: hard faces, hard voices, cold eyes that did not relent when the man gathered his grandchild in his arms."

"They asked about Everett, and Flora tried tellin' them about why he was in prison, but they only seemed interested in his whereabouts. The whole thing didn't take all of ten minutes. Didn't go to the house to get Emilene's things, wouldn't even go to the churchyard to see her grave. She's still there to this day." She gave a small sigh. "Flora took it hard, and until the day she died made sure Emilene's gravestone was kept up proper, placed flowers on her grave each year, on the day her child was born."

"Everett still alive ma'am?" Levon asked quietly.

"I hear he lives in a retirement home in Houston," she said thoughtfully, "don't know which one."

"Mrs. Bowden, do you recognize this locket?" Joe offered the necklace for her inspection.

"Yes, I do, it belonged to Emilene." She accepted the necklace, pressed the latch, and carefully opened the locket. "That is Everett and Emilene." She gave a sad smile. "They look so young and happy." She returned the locket to Joe. "I was wonderin'," she hesitated, "may I keep this letter? Flora passed years ago and this is written by her hand..."

"Don't see any harm in you keepin' it, ma'm."

"Much obliged," she smiled warmly.

At that moment Mikey and Lindy came running around the corner of the house breathless and laughing, thundering their way across the planks of the porch to where the adults were gathered. Mikey flung himself onto Joe's legs.

"Uncle Joey," he hollered excitedly, "I got to talk to the cows!"

"Wow, that's pretty cool," Joe replied, suitably impressed, "were you scared?"

"No, they were scared of me," Mikey crowed loudly.

"Imagine that," Levon muttered to Joe.

"They jumped and ran away, they came back and ate carrots, it felt scratchy when they kissed my hand..."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Mrs. Bowden exclaimed, "Lindy, take him in and have your mamaw wash him up, dear."

"C'mon, Mikey," Lindy smiled.

The children ran into the house, screen door banging shut behind them; their progress was easily followed as they pounded across the wooden floors into the depths of the house hollering, laughing, and squealing.

Mrs. Bowden gave a sigh. "I need more great-grandchildren," she smiled, her eyes twinkling. 

Joe swiped worriedly at his jeans.

"Don't worry, LaFiamma," Levon winked at Mrs. Bowden, "cow slobber washes right out."


	5. Chapter 5

=+=+=+=+=+= Chapter 5

Joe kept stealing looks at Levon as he half-listened to Mikey's excited chatter. Levon hadn't said a word since leaving the Hunter's house, and his distant look had Joe wondering if Levon was thinking about his own father.

"I wonder if Everett Milligan ever tried to contact his son," Joe ventured cautiously, trying to draw Levon out of his thoughts.

"Don't seem likely, it's a fair bet that Emilene's family would'a sent 'im on his way if he showed up."

"From the sound of Mrs. Bowden's story, showing up at their doorstep wouldn't have been too smart," Joe agreed, his voice grim.

Levon gave him a look that conveyed he had understood Joe's implication of a possible violent confrontation.

"Aubrey would have been in his twenties when Everett came home." Joe chose his words carefully in front of Mikey.

"He would'a been on parole so he couldn't a gone ta see 'im in Louisiana," Levon reasoned.

"Could'a went anyway," Joe offered.

"What does 'parole' mean, Uncle Joey?" Mikey looked up at Joe curiously.

Joe smiled down at Mikey. "Remember the time your dad told you not to get your clothes dirty? You guys were waiting on your mom to finish getting ready for church and he let you go out onto the front porch?"

Mikey nodded. "I got spanked," he said gravely.

"That's right, because you got dirt on your clothes."

"No I didn't, Uncle Joey, I didn't get my clothes dirty at all," Mikey argued earnestly. 

"You went out into the rain and got mud all over yourself, Mikey," Joe asserted.

"No, no," Mikey shook his head in denial, "I only got mud on my face because I needed warpaint."

Joe glanced over at Levon, who was smiling broadly as he navigated the after-noon traffic headed into Houston.

"Warpaint?"

"You can't be an Indian without warpaint," Mikey explained.

"What did you use for warpaint?" Joe maneuvered.

"Mud - but I didn't get it on my clothes, just my face," Mikey countered.

"I bet you got all wet though," Joe tried one last time to win the argument.

"Yes, but it was clean rain," Mikey stated confidently.

Levon burst out laughing. "How long were you in law school, LaFiamma? Some lawyer you are."

"Getting back on the subject," Joe gave Levon a brief, irritated look, "parole is kinda what you got when your mom grounded you."

"Oh, he wasn't allowed to go out and play with his friends."

Joe smiled at the sorrowful empathy in Mikey's voice. "Exactly."

Mikey turned to Levon. "What's a lawyer?"

"A no good, snake in the grass." Levon announced with a side-long smirk at Joe.

Joe couldn't stop himself from taking the bait. "Yeah, until you need one."

"What we need is a lead on where Mr. Milligan got himself to; maybe we should go to the station and make some phone calls." 

"You gonna return Milligan's property to him or are you gonna ask him about his son?"

Levon didn't answer immediately. "Maybe both." Levon slowed to a stop at the red light and looked down at Mikey. "How 'bout it Mikey, ya want ta go to the police station and see where we work?" 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Joe and Levon made their way through Reisner and were greeted with more double-takes, smiles, and hellos than they'd ever received before. As they entered the bullpen O'Brien looked up from her desk with surprise.

"Hey, I thought you fellas were goin' to the Johnson Space Center today?" She smiled. "Who is this little cutie?"

"Le... uh, Carol this is Mikey, Joe's nephew," Levon introduced.

"Are you a policeman like Uncle Joey?" Mikey asked in awe. "Do you catch bad guys? Uncle Joey catches bad guys."

"Yep, I catch bad guys too, Sugar."

"I bet you ground them," Mikey decided.

Carol smiled at Joe. "Sometimes," she admitted, "but then I call their mamas and daddies ta come and get 'im."

"Hey, LaFiamma," McCandless called out, "looks like all that runnin' around finally caught up to ya."

Levon looked up from thumbing through a phone book. "Watch yer language." Levon kept his tone neutral but gave McCandless a look that added weight to his mild tone. 

"Sorry," Joe-Bill said sheepishly. "Hey, ya wanna see my pet armadillo, kid?"

Mikey shrank back against Joe's shoulder, eyeing the stuffed animal warily.

"Stick to scaring the ladies, will ya," Joe frowned.

"This is yer crazy uncle, Joe-Bill," Levon drawled sarcastically.

"Is he my uncle too, Uncle Joey?"

"We don't talk about him." Joe winked and turned to greet another man. "This is officer, Estaban Gutierrez."

"Hola, como se llama usted?" queried Gutierrez.

Joe whispered in Mikey's ear. Mikey straightened up and turned to face Estaban.

"Mi chiamo Michael Anthony LaFiamma, the Third," he said proudly.

Estaban smiled delightedly and nodded to Joe, "Bueno, well done."

"Uncle Joey, Uncle Joey, look at her," Mikey exclaimed excitedly.

Joe turned to see Annie rolling toward them through the bull pen.

"What have we here," Annie asked with concern, "is this a friend of yours, Joe?"

"Annie, this is my nephew," Joe introduced. "Mikey, this is Annie, she's a police officer too."

"Can I ride your go-cart? Can I?" Mikey squirmed in Joe's arms.

"Whoa, that isn't a go-cart, it's called a wheelchair," Joe lowered Mikey to the floor. "She uses it to get around instead of walking."

"You get to ride it all day?" Mikey asked enviously.

"I have to, my legs don't work so I use this chair to get from place to place," she smiled.

"What's the matter with your legs?"

"Mikey...," Joe warned.

"It's all right, Joe." She looked back at Mikey. "I got hurt and my legs quit working so I had to learn how to use a wheelchair."

"Is it fun?" Mikey asked wistfully.

"Can I take him for a short ride?" grinned Annie.

"Here, Annie, have him sit on this pillow from my chair," Carol offered.

"You sit very still and mind your manners," Joe instructed his nephew.

"Okay, Uncle Joey," Mikey grinned happily.

"I'll push you, Annie," Carol offered.

"Thank you. Hold on, Mikey, here we go."

"How fast can you go? Do you chase bad people? We should beep the horn..."

Joe watched as they disappeared through the double-doors of the bullpen then walked over to Levon. "Man, that kid would make a hell of a police officer. He's not afraid to ask anyone, anything. Any luck?" 

"Found 'im on my second try." He displayed his notepad. "Not too far from here; should be able ta see 'im and get this wrapped up today. I think it's time ta round up Mikey and solve this misty."


	6. Chapter 6

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Chapter 6  
By Hilligan

 

As they approached the double-doors Joe-Bill swung them both open to allow Annie an unobstructed entrance to the bullpen.

"Thank you, Joe-Bill. Mikey, this is Sergeant Joe-Bill," Annie introduced.

"We met already, didn't we kid," Joe-Bill prompted cheerfully.

"Yes, you scare ladies," Mikey informed helpfully.

As his Uncle Joey scooped him out of Annie's lap, Mikey wondered what was so darn funny.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

They approached the heavy, glass doors adorned with a sign asking them to ensure the doors were closed after entering. The sunlit reception area had a few elderly residents sitting in the chairs offered, watching the arrivals and departures of the outside world. The white tiled floor gleamed, reflecting the fake plants and the standard artwork hanging on neutral walls that every business seemed to use. Joe lifted Mikey up and carried him through the gauntlet of admiring grandmothers as they headed toward the reception desk.

"Mikey, I need you to be on your best behavior, understand?"

"Okay, Uncle Joey," Mikey replied as he curiously watched the waving ladies. 

"May I help you?" greeted a nurse at the reception desk.

"Yes ma'am," Levon doffed his Stetson, "my name is Levon Lundy, I'm lookin' for Mr. Everett Milligan."

"Are you family?" she asked, her tone implying she was already preparing her standard speech to deny them access.

"We're with Houston police," Joe proffered his badge with a charming smile, "we just need to speak with him for a moment."

She looked at Mikey for a moment and decided. "Follow me sir."

"LaFiamma, we ain't exactly here officially, it's our day off," Levon reminded discreetly.

"Well, unless we get in a fist-fight or there's gunfire, I don't think anyone will make a big deal of it."

"When have I heard that before?" Levon groused.

The nurse stopped and gestured across a spacious assembly room toward a row of large, sunny windows.

"Okay, Mikey," Joe lowered the boy into a chair, "I want you to stay right here and watch the TV while Uncle Levon and I talk to Mr. Milligan, got it?"

"Yes, Uncle Joey," Mikey squirmed in his seat, "I'm hungry."

"We'll get something after we're done talking to Mr. Milligan," Joe promised.

"Ice cream?"

"After we eat," Joe agreed.

Joe tousled the little boy's hair and caught up to Levon as he approached an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair. He was looking out the large window into the green of summer. Small gardens of sunny marigolds, cherry red geraniums, and bright petunias clustered around the base of various stone birdbaths and statues. The sunlight glittered in the wisps of silver around his head, his skin was thin and fragile looking, and his eyes were a faded, misty blue. He wore a frayed, green sweater against the cool air and brown, worn slippers that slipped easily onto his feet.

"Mr. Milligan?" 

The old man didn't stir. 

"Everett Milligan?" Levon queried sharply.

The old man's head swiveled around abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Who are you?" He asked tremulously. "What do you want?" 

"We're with Houston P. D.," Levon reassured him, "we want ta ask ya about some documents we found."

"Documents?" he frowned in confusion. "Who are you, what do you want from me?"

Levon slid a chair over and sat down, making himself less threatening, and tried again. "My name is Levon Lundy. I found these documents and this necklace in my attic, inside a rocking horse..."

The old man gave a small gasp and reached for the necklace with a trembling hand. "Emilene," he whispered fervently.

Levon dropped the necklace into the old man's outstretched hand. "Found some documents and a letter Miss Flora sent you."

"She was a good person, Flora," he accepted the certificates from Levon, "tried her best to help Emilene when I got arrested."

"Why did ya hide 'em in the rockin' horse?"

"I didn't," he frowned, "I wrote Flora a letter on the back a the letter she sent ta me. They wouldn't give me no paper, lucky ta get a pencil. She died a'fore I got out." 

"Why were you sentenced to thirty years?" Joe was curious. "Mrs. Bowden told us you weren't the one that shot those officers; thirty years seems kind of harsh."

He looked from Joe to Levon. "Bonnie and Clyde," he said simply.

"Yer sayin' you were part a the Barrow gang?" Levon asked increduously.

Milligan snorted, "Hell no. A friend a mine, Ray Hamilton, kept braggin' how he knew, 'The' Bonnie and Clyde. Thought he was fulla hot air -- wasn't though." His eyes were downcast. 

"August, nineteen and thirty-two. They were headin' up ta Oklahoma fer a small job, he said, easy money. We stopped at some kind a dance in a dry county. Ray was swiggin' a flask and already a little drunk; caught the attention of a couple a cops who didn't like the looks of us. The next thing I know there was gunshots, people dyin'; I was arrested and showed off like a trophy. I picked the wrong night to run with that crowd." 

"I'd say ya picked the wrong crowd, Mr. Milligan," Levon said softly.  
The old man grunted ruefully. "Not the only bad choice I made -- Emilene's family; never should'a crossed her daddy. Her family was outta Louisiana -- a hard bunch. If they could'a found me, they'd a killed me."

"That was almost sixty years ago," Levon reasoned, "they can't have held a grudge this long."

The old man slowly shook his head. "I'm grateful to ya fer what ya brung me, but I don't want nothin' ta do with the Arceneaux family. No reason ta open old wounds."

Levon reached out and gripped the armrest of the wheelchair. "No reason? Ya got a son out there somewhere."

"A son who's made a life for hisself all these years, he don't need me. He's never known me, and probably been told tales about me so that he hates my guts." His face drew up with pain. "Hell, the truth is bad enough, what I did to his mother was unforgivable." Milligan bowed his head.

"Those were hard years for you'n Emilene. Ya were tryin' ta help your family, you didn't intend for any a that ta happen," Levon implored.

Milligan closed his hand around the locket and raised his head to look Levon in the eye.

"You know what is said 'bout good intentions."

Joe didn't have to ask, he could see it in the old man's eyes. He reached down and placed his hand on Levon's shoulder.

Levon held the old man's watery gaze for a moment more, then rose with a polite nod, turned and walked away. Joe followed close behind his partner.

"You can't expect a happy ending, Levon..."

Levon stopped and turned to face Joe. "It don't seem right, why would a man walk away from his son?"

"Maybe because he's right, the family would kill him."

"After all this time? Ever'body's dead and gone." Levon's voice went hard. "No, nuthin' would keep me from my son."

Joe remembered Levon's own relationship with his father and chose his words carefully. "Maybe he believes his son would never forgive him. Maybe he feels guilty, like he isn't worthy or he thinks it's too late."

Levon looked back and watched as the old man opened the locket. "It's never too late, LaFiamma," he said softly.

"Levon, where's Mikey?" Joe asked in rising panic, "Where'd he go?"

Both men quickly scanned the seating area as they walked through the recreation room. Joe was headed for the reception desk when he heard Levon call out to him.

"Looky there," Levon pointed.

On the other side of the television was an open area occupied by a group of residents sitting in a large circle. As they approached they could see a beautiful golden retriever enjoying almost as much attention as Mikey was getting. Mikey was talking between bites of cookie; his stories holding the rapt attention of the group, and his cookies, the golden retriever's.

"... and I gots to ride in a go cart with a nice lady. She gets to ride in it all day and chase bad guys, and then there was a man with a pet amalillo who scared ladies..."

"Mikey," Joe interrupted gently, "I told you to stay put. You had me worried for a minute when I couldn't find you." Joe's voice was stern, but soft.

"Oh no," one of the residents reassured Joe, "he's fine."

"He's been telling us all about his day. It's rather fascinating."

"He rode a horse and talked to some cows," an elderly man recalled. "I grew up on a ranch in Abilene, helpin' my dad, and aunts, and uncles, and cousins..."

"Oh, and what about lookin' for a ghost in the attic," a lady exclaimed, shivering with delight. "My mother claimed to have seen a ghost, while walkin' home from the church one evenin', as a young girl." 

"He had soup, 'thout feathers..."

"...and his mother is on parole," a man stated with uncertainty.

"What? No, he means she grounds him; uh, I explained that being grounded is kinda like being on parole..."

The group laughed at Joe's elucidation. Joe and Levon sat with the group for a while, eating cookies, petting the retriever, and helping Mikey tell his tales of adventure. All too soon they had to leave; with a standing invitation, to bring the boy back anytime, following them out of the door.

"You know," a man said, as he bent forward to pet the dog, "we forgot to ask him about trying to catch a lawyer in his back yard."

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Pressed for time, Joe and Levon bought a joyful Mikey a happy-meal on the way back to Joe's apartment. By the time Mikey's parents arrived the little boy was asleep on the couch, the happy-meal toy clutched protectively against his chest.

"Look at him, he's fast asleep," his mother marveled.

"Thank you so much Joe," Mikey's father shook Joe's hand. "We needed a day like this. No worries, had some fun, just like when we first met."

"He didn't give you any problems, did he Joe?"

"No, no. He was no problem at all." He gave Levon a surreptitious look to make sure the cowboy was hiding his smirk. "Levon and I took him around and showed him a little bit of Houston. He had a good time."

After gathering the sleepy child in his arms, Mikey's dad, and mom, said their goodbyes and left. Joe shut the door and leaned against it while Levon walked to the couch and dropped down heavily onto the cushions.

"How in the world do they keep up with that boy?" wondered Levon. "It's like herdin' cats -- in the rain."

Joe sighed and walked to the kitchen. "Being a parent definitely isn't easy. I don't know if I would be a good dad or not." Joe opened the refrigerator. "I can't imagine raising kids while I'm a cop. The hours we work are terrible, I'd never see them. And what if I were killed on the job? It would be tough raising a family alone."

Levon didn't answer. He was looking at the ceiling as Joe walked over and offered him a beer.

"Levon?"

"Huh? Oh, thanks."

"Look Levon, I'm sorry for butting into your business." Joe sat down beside Levon. "I know you and your dad didn't get along, but it's like you told Mr. Milligan; that was years ago. You're both adults now. Why don't you call him? Go do something together. He may be too scared to make the first move."

"Yeah," Levon answered distractedly, "we are gettin' along better. Been talkin' on the phone longer over the years. I don't know, maybe." He took a swig of his beer. 

"Then what's wrong?"

"Yer right about bein' a cop: too much time away from home, bein' alone. Back then, bein' a good cop was important to me, more important than Caroline. Ya try ta balance out the two but it don't seem ta ever work out. I might'a had a family by now." He looked at Joe. "I don't blame Jaime one bit, wantin' me ta quit or else. Makes me wonder if I shouldn't be lookin' seriously at startin' that horse farm I've always wanted."

"You tired of being a cop?"

"On the good days, no; on the bad days I wonder if I'm missin' out on somethin' better."

"If you think that you've wasted your life I won't agree with you. You've helped too many people over the years."

"Yeah, but I worry that I'm neglectin' the people closest to me. If I lose Mother Minnie, I won't have any family at all."

"If you don't mind having a family with a notorious reputation, you're already considered family by Uncle Mikey's standards, and by mine." Joe saw the faint blush Levon got when he made a personal remark aimed at his partner.

"I don't mind bein' part a yer family, LaFiamma, but all that huggin' and kissin' just ain't a proper greetin' here in Texas."

"I can talk to them about that," Joe grinned.

They clinked their bottles together in agreement and drank to that.

"Although, why not compromise? When you're visiting in Chicago you greet them with hugs and kisses, when they're here in Texas they can yell, "Yahoo!", and fire their guns in the air."

"LaFiamma, kiss my..."

 

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Note from JoeyPare... Hilligan has been a Houston Knights fan for years and years. She doesn't realize what a fantastic writer she is. I will forward any comments re this story to her. Thanks for reading it.


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